


Shadows

by Dewdroplotus (Sevargs)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevargs/pseuds/Dewdroplotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A monk and a youkai prince meet behind the backs of their friends. In secret. In the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my tumblr.

After two months of tireless trekking and sleeping on dirt and the uncomfortable seats of a Jeep, the run down little hotel in the middle of nowhere felt like a vacation spot. With four beds, tables, and even a lamp and a bath down stairs to those willing to challenge what might be growing in the uncleaned amenities. But, compared to river water and rain, it seemed like a real treat to three out of the four travelling companions, leaving only one to remain fixed in the dingy hotel room, watching out the window with a perpetual scowl of mistrust.

With a gun fixed in hand, he just puffed steadily on a lit cigarette, filling the room with smoke while his companions were out and couldn’t bother him with whining about bad habits. Two of the four had problems with second-hand toxins, how annoying, but when they weren’t around, he’d be damned if he held back. In a strange way it was cathartic to burn his lungs and suffer the silent death of his ability to hold his breath for long periods of time. Having something to passively focus on made him think a little less about being as rigid and self-defensive, well, somewhat.

Natural instincts made him jump at the slightest shift in shadows and he was passively focusing on his surroundings, watching shadows bounce and gauging the speed of the clouds that blocked out moonlight in phases. His eyes scanned over the same shapes dozens of times, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, feeling nothing out of the ordinary, but knowing that if he let his guard down, he could end up significantly less alive than before. It’s been proven time and time again.

Especially, since the sneakiest of youkai could slip by his quite perceptive eyes with little effort, leaving him only instinct.

A rustle of cloth and click of a gun and Genjo Sanzo, in all his paranoia, is trained on the intruder he half expected, but wasn’t quite sure he would see tonight. With a twitch of a finger, he could fire his weapon and that would be sufficient in signalling to his teammates, but instead he cocks it down and leans his arm against his bent knee. 

Cool, violet eyes glance up at the foreign presence in the room. “Haven’t your kind ever heard of knocking? I should have just shot you.”

“You could have, but then, that puny little gun of yours probably wouldn’t do anything to me a point blank,” the casual voice of the intruder came from the direction of the farthest bed. “And you didn’t lock the door, so I simply just walked into the wrong room.”

“One of these days, one of them is going to sense you, or come back in unexpectedly, and then I’m going to have to test out that claim of just how bullet proof your face is.”

“Keep talking, but roasted monk is more likely the result of that attempt,” the sneaky intruder just shrugged and stood from the bed that likely belonged to the overly energetic monkey of their group–if the rolled in sheets and dropped personal effects told him anything. He approached the paranoid monk with little fear of repercussion, even as the priest raised the gun to point directly at him. Instead of bowing back, the youkai leaned forward, face to face with the blond sanzo priest.

Red hair spilled over the youkai’s shoulder and human fingers reached up to toy with the ends of the strands. “Keep showing up like this and not stealing the precious sutra you come for and someone might think you’re a shitty villain.”

“Like how you’re a pious and respectable monk?” The youkai’s claws framed his words by trailing dangerously along a pale cheek.

“Bastard.”

A click at the door and Sanzo turned his attention toward the sound, greeting by the confused face of his smarter travelling companion. He just leaned back in the chair, wind blowing in from the window and the room empty again. 

“Huh, I thought I heard you talking in here, is everything alright, Sanzo?” 

“What do you think?” The priest just lights another cigarette and stares out the window as the other two idiots come barreling into the room, at least smelling less like wet dogs than before.

“If you say so.” 

“Ease up, Hakkai, we all know Sanzo talks to himself when he’s alone. It’s the only friend he can make, heh.” 

While blatantly ignoring the cutting remarks Sanzo could feel the eyes on him, specifically, a golden pair belonging to a boy sniffing around the room like he could smell something that wasn’t there before. Quickly, he seemed to drop the suspicion, but he wasn’t wrong.

They just were never quick enough to catch the lingering presence.

“Sanzo, I’m hungry.” The suspicious boy dropped his silence for loud whining. 

“Shut up and go eat some grass, you stupid monkey.”


	2. Chapter 2

A candle flickered lazily on the table by the bed, rustled only by the occasional breeze that drifted in through the open window. The air was warm, but not enough to require opening the window. It was perched open for a different reason; a reason ignored by the blond monk for quite a while, as finishing his cigarette felt more worthy of his immediate attention. At least, he pretended it was more interesting, even as his eyes traveled across the top of the table to the figure taking up the view in the window.

When he finally decided he was done with puffing poison into his body, he stubbed out the smoldering end into a flat glass tray. He debated on lighting another, just to annoy the quiet guest a bit more, but instead he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms.

“It’s a testament to how ridiculous you are, that you come here and say nothing with a broken arm that you’ve conveniently forgotten to notice.” Human eyes were gauging the youkai’s response to his words, but if he was any bit ruffled by it, it didn’t show in his posture. “If you leave it like that, you’ll be throwing fireballs behind you when you pretend to fight us.”

A cool pair of eyes turned to the monk and looked him over like he was judging him, though he wasn’t. The natural instinct to maintain himself, with his head up, occasionally overwhelmed him; and it seemed like some things drilled into his head by his kingly father had stuck. Though he tended to mimic his mother, the youkai prince was not unknown to cling to his pride and this time, it was the simple matter that he earned the injury he took and should bear it like anyone who let themselves get swept up by something as pathetic as mind control by a human.

“It’s not like you to be so dramatic, Genjo. I’m not like you, taking months to heal from any injury that you trip over.” 

“Shut your mouth, you’re part of the reason I end up having your little pissant underlings crawling up my ass all the goddamn time. Take some responsibility, Prince Kougaiji.”

Kougaiji just turned, readjusting to face him while he leaned against the window sill. The breeze just curled around him, leaking into the room and making the candle twitch and bounce shadows around the room. “If you give me the sutra, then I’m certain I can strike a deal with my minions to not eat you. You could even be my slave if you were really well behaved.”

No immediate response came, but Sanzo stood, finding the energy to stumble over to their travelling bag and root through it with little regard to keeping the contents in order. He was looking for a tightly wound roll of bandages and tape and he didn’t allow for protest when he turned from the bag and made his way over to the companion that graced his presence while his travel mates were out feeding the monkey. They wouldn’t be back for a while, that much he could be certain–Goku never finished feeding in less than an hour at minimum.

“Don’t bother protesting, I’ll just kick your dumb ass out through the window if you do.” He grunted and pulled up a chair to the edge of the window. “Sit.”

The attempt to protest almost died as soon as it started and Kougaiji just slid off the window sill and into the chair, facing the side so his damaged arm was facing the human–ready to be reset and bandaged. Begrudgingly, the monk had gotten quite good at first aid and with deft hands, had the cloth stretched and wound around a reset bone attached to a stubborn youkai.

Kougaiji just ran a clawed finger along the fabric and teased the broken spot of his arm with pressure, until he was sure it was set into place right–and surprisingly, the human didn’t do so bad. For a fragile creature. “Not too terrible.”

“A thank you wouldn’t kill you.”

Perhaps not, but that was simply too easy and too giving for the perpetually pissy monk. Kougaiji was notably polite for a youkai, but he was also a bit of a brat–as his protector, Dokugakuji, could easily confirm. He stood swiftly, lamenting his slighter frame for a moment, as it would have given him a much more fun advantage. But regardless of not being able to tower the human, he had the advantage of a large aural presence and the human wasn’t quick enough to catch him before or after he dragged him down by the chin and slipped a stealthy kiss right on his mouth.

Before Sanzo could even attempt to retaliate, the youkai had already stepped back and took a casual leap backwards and out of the open window, vanishing from sight before Sanzo could even get to the window–though Sanzo could swear he heard a chuckle.

“You little bitch.” The monk hissed at no one in particular and slumped into the chair.


	3. Chapter 3

Rain meant that it was highly unlikely that Kougaiji would sneak a visit in this time, and the conditions hadn’t been right for some time after the last instance. Not that he was eager to see the poor excuse of an enemy after that stunt he pulled. Sanzo didn’t hold grudges, but he was able to keep up an air of annoyance for a heck of a long time and his traveling companions thankfully attributed it to the rain. Rain gave him too much time to think and while he didn’t hate the rain itself, he hated the all the contemplation and occasionally the reminders that nothing good seems to happen in the rain.

This time, however, he was more focused on wishing hexes on the enemy who sucked at being an enemy so badly that he showed up one day while Sanzo was alone, to apologize for a bunch of crap the priest didn’t even hear, because he was too busy trying to figure out what mental disorder this youkai dumbass had. He never figured it out, but there had to be something. The redhead had the sense enough then to know that showing up with the others there would lead to a fight–especially since Goku and Gojyo picked fights with anything that moved sometimes. However, the sense stopped there, when he politely apologized for the trouble, then kindly asked for him to give over the sutra.

Naturally, the answer was no, and strangely, Kougaiji just bowed out and promised to maintain a respectful position toward taking the sutra. He had the opportunity to overpower Sanzo, absolutely, and the others wouldn’t make it to them quick enough to stop the youkai prince. And yet, he kept with the silly honor thing that was really setting him back. Fight it out fairly, or something ridiculous like that. It worked out for the benefit of Sanzo and his team, but Sanzo had really expected that to be some kind of trick. However, after this many visits, it as clear Kougaiji was just a bad case of stupid.

He hadn’t even asked for the sutra seriously in ages. It was more like a joke. Even Kougaiji knew he was ridiculous.

And how many times had he shown up? It was becoming harder and harder to keep track of every visit. Sanzo stopped caring that he might have an intruder; at some point he may have event started expecting it. Which was starting to become dangerous territory to be in. Complacency was the first step to potential tragedy in his life. How hard would it be for Kougaiji to simply change his tune? Not very. Yet somehow, Sanzo didn’t think that he had much of a reason to doubt his honorable intents. He’d have to have something pressing him against the wall to get to that point, certainly.

“He’s just an idiot,” Sanzo mumbled to himself, with the cigarette between his teeth–earning the attention of the nearest of his traveling companions. 

“Did you say something Sanzo?” The smart one, Hakkai, glanced over to see what Sanzo’s grumbling was all about. It wasn’t uncommon for the priest to be pissy about something or other, but usually it was directed at someone, and for once, neither of the usual culprits were being very loud. Goku was actually sleeping and Gojyo was out finding trouble as he tended to.

“No,” he answered forcefully, which usually meant not to press the issue. Hakkai was generally one to accept his responses as what they were, but sometimes, he was known to press buttons himself. 

“Say, Sanzo, are you by chance injured?”

“Again, no.”

“Ah, I was just wondering, because we seem to be missing some supplies, and I wondered if maybe you were injured. I’ll ask Gojyo. I suppose it’s possible they just got misplaced.” 

Misplaced, yes, that is the likely reason. “Stupid monkey probably knocked it out of the bag when he was rooting through it and eating all the food. It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Though Hakkai just smiled and let it go, Sanzo got the feeling he was suspicious about it. He did have a tendency to hide injuries and Hakkai did tend to think he was everyone’s mother or something; but as long as Hakkai was suspicious for the wrong reason, he just didn’t didn’t have it in him to care all that much. Let Hakkai mother hen it out, if he was lucky, he’d bully Gojyo until Gojyo couldn’t remember if he’d taken anything out of the bag or not. That would be enough to leave it in mystery. 

If only that stupid redheaded youkai prince of dumbasses hadn’t gotten himself mangled so stupidly.

He stared out the window, lamenting the rain and flicking a quickly burning cigarette into the tray. Only by sitting so close to the window, was he able to get away with smoking in the room without Hakkai having a stroke. Absently, he wondered how long it took a youkai prince to heal a broken arm. It wasn’t the first time that Kougaiji had happened upon him with some stupid injury or another. He wanted to yell at him in their scuffles, to tell him to stop blocking with his damn arms so much. Surely, his head was harder than they were anyway.

Suddenly, his face contorted into a bit of a grimace–though unnoticed by anyone, as this wasn’t unusual. He stubbed the cigarette out and turned away from the window in an attempt to deny himself the thought that he was searching out into the darkness in expectation of something. Or someone.


End file.
